


The Legendary Winchesters... who?

by Lichterin



Category: Supernatural, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers and their bad “I’m a civilian” disguise, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Demon Clint Barton, Gen, Legendary Winchesters, Sam and Dean get to show off, Supervengers, Winchesters and Avengers meet, Winchesters to the Rescue, a demon being like “oh shit it's the Winchesters”, after Age of Ultron for the Avengers, not all of the Avengers, somewhere season 11 for the Winchesters, the Avengers have to deal with a spn style demon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-02 03:17:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15787842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lichterin/pseuds/Lichterin
Summary: Sam and Dean encounter the Avengers. No, there's no time to fangirl, they've got a demon to exorcise.





	The Legendary Winchesters... who?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fanboi214](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanboi214/gifts).



> Juggling so many characters is hard.
> 
> And this turned out wayyy longer than I anticipated ~~(so far this is my longest work??)~~. I had so much fun writing this.

They were on the way back to Lebanon from an exhausting hunt in Maine. Probably the farthest they could drive from the bunker and still be in the USA (well, except Alaska). But the motels in Pennsylvania were as sleazy as everywhere else, Alaska was probably no exception there.

Dean fell right into bed, not about to sleep, but taking a minute of rest after the long drive. And they had so much ahead of them still. The blanket smelled funny.

“You think they have better motels in Alaska?” he muttered into the sheets.

“What?” came the distant sound from the bathroom where Sam was already stripping to take the first shower. “Alaska? I don’t know? Probably not.”

“Yeah,” said Dean, then added on: “We’ve never been to Alaska.”

“What would we do in Alaska anyways?” Sam was shouting now, over the sound of the water.

“Over there are monsters too, you know.” Dean didn’t bother to raise his voice. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all to fall asleep like this. Come to think of it, the weird, hm, _odor_ he was smelling was probably himself. Okay, no Alaska then. He loved his Baby, but in a car for days was even too much for Dean.

“Hurry up,” he said, louder this time, and sitting up. “I need to shower too.”

“I _just_ started. You can wait a few minutes. Go get us something to eat or so.”

That wasn’t a bad idea at all. Dean grunted as he stood up, stretching his aching muscles, before taking the keys and leaving the room with a final “Fine!”

There was a diner that hopefully sold take-out across the street. The smell of grease and fatty burgers greeted him as he stepped in and he smiled. His stomach rumbled on cue and he grinned even more as he saw the diner was nearly empty. An old man nursed on a coffee and a couple sat in the corner, sharing a milkshake. Dean strolled right to the counter where a middle aged women stood while a younger one (maybe in her early twenties) was sweeping down the tables.

“Hey,” he said to the woman behind the counter and gave her a bright smile. She was at least 20 years older than him, hair already greying, but there was no shame in a little flattering and flirting for a nicer service. “Do you do take-out, sweetheart?”

“We sure do,” she said with a little smile. “What I can get for you?”

“I’ll take two of your best burger with one side of fries and a salad, any kind.”

“You got it. Take a seat while you wait, hon.” 

“Thanks, Maria,” he said after a peek at her name tag and slid onto a barstool.

While he was waiting for his order the younger woman came up to the counter and declared the end of her shift to Maria. She looked at her with a fond expression which made Dean wonder if she was her mother.

“Alright,” Maria said to her in a whisper so Dean wouldn’t hear. “Be careful when you’re out there. And call me when you get home, alright? I don’t want for you to happen what he did with those other people.”

Dean raised his eyebrows at that, couldn’t even pretend anymore he wasn’t paying attention. The younger woman nodded and gave her a quick hug, then disappearing into the back of the diner.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear,” Dean started. “Me and my brother aren’t from around here, we’re just passing by on the way home, and... is something going on in this town?” Not exactly the most subtle approach but he was tired. And hungry.

Maria sighed. “Yeah. We had a few horrible deaths in the last few days. Some psychopath seems to be running around, killed whoever runs into his way. The police didn’t manage to stop him yet.”

“Oh no, that’s horrible,” said Dean and trying to put as much conviction as possible into it.

“It is, but you know, life has to keep going, right?” she said with a forced smile.

Dean smiled back, reassuring hopefully. “Of course. They’ll catch him soon.”

“We sure hope so. It’s a small town, everybody knows everybody, and having all those bodies turn up… Anyways, I’m sorry about that. Your food will be ready soon.”

“No worries,” said Dean. There was a short silence between them, Maria not managing to find something to look busy with right away, so Dean kept going. Call it instinct, maybe. “So those bodies, is there anything weird about them?” “Weird? What do you mean, weird?” Maria asked with a frown.

“Well, you know, some serial killers have their own mark that you can recognize them by. Like a way of killing, and they do it the same way every time. Maybe something like, I dunno, stealing the hearts of their victims, literally, or draining their victims of their blood, something like that.”

Maria splayed the fingers of one hand against her breastbone and looked at him in shock. “No, nothing like that. That’s horrible, I didn’t realize some killer did that,” she said. “But no, he just kills them. Or she, the police doesn’t even know that yet. All the victims are killed with bow and arrow though. Maybe that could be seen as his ‘mark’ or how you want to call it.”

Dean kept his face indifferent, with the slight note of _oh my god, I’m sorry you have to go through that_. This didn’t sound like a typical monster of the week, probably a serial killer after all and the police or real FBI would deal with it. He and Sam would be gone tomorrow. Sure, murders were always horrible, but this was not their problem.

A call came from the kitchen and Maria excused herself to fetch his food. Dean paid and before he went she said to him what she did to that woman earlier: “Be careful out there.”

He gave her a last nod and with a smile and “You too” he went back to the motel.

Sam was already out of the bathroom, still drying his hair (of course, it was miles long) and Dean put the foot on the table. Realizing too late that he should have bought some drinks too.

“There are some heavy murders going on here apparently.”

“Really?” asked Sam while looking into the bag. “You think it’s some kind of monster?” “Nah,” said Dean. “Just some freak with bow and arrow.”

“Huh,” said Sam, raising an eyebrow. He pulled out his salad. “You got yourself two burgers? Do you actually want to die of a heart attack?” He bitch-faced at the delicious looking burgers. 

“No, moron, one is for you.” Dean pushed one of the open styrofoam containers towards Sam. “You barely ate anything today. You can’t possibly be fine with just a flimsy salad.”

Sam frowned at the burger but didn’t retord. And damn, the food definitely didn’t deserve such cruel looks because fuck, the burger was in Dean’s top five best burgers of the USA as of this moment. Dean moaned around his bite. “God, if you don’t try this, I’m gonna force it down your throat, I swear.”

“Alright, jeez.”

After they ate (and Sam actually finished his burger) Dean finally had his okay-shower and could crash in the okay-bed.

-

The next morning they got ready to leave town. They had already packed the Impala (they didn’t unpack much) and were getting ready to have a quick breakfast at the diner.

The parking lots in front of the room weren’t housing many cars. The motel probably had very little business in this - how to put it? - difficult time for the town.

A little group stood at the corner of the motel, the room on the farthest end that Sam and Dean liked to book too, if it was possible. Dean only caught a brief glance of the face of the broadest guy, when his hand flew up to the side, right into Sam’s chest, stopping him in his tracks.

“Dude, what?” Sam asked exasperated. 

“Sammy, I’m going to die of a heart attack,” said Dean, voice airy in wonder.

“That’s what I said. Wait, what?”

Dean stared at the group and Sam threw a quick glance over too, before turning towards Dean with a confused look on his face.

“Those are the Avenger, man!” Dean said excitedly like a little child on christmas. No - like a grown man, excited to see some real life superheroes. He had no issue admitting that.

“No, they aren’t. Those are some normal civilians.”

“I saw his face, man, that’s 100% Captain America in a hoodie and cap.” Dean urged him to the side, he was blocking his view. But before he could make his way over there Sam grabbed him by the arm.

“So what?” he asked. “You can’t just go over there and talk to them.” 

Dean stopped, indignantly. “Why not?” He frowned at him.

“Because they obviously don’t want to be recognized. They are either here undercover or privately, but either way they don’t want you talking to them.”

Dean paused for another moment until pouting slightly and crossing the street without another comment. Sam caught up with him as Dean entered the diner.

He didn’t talk to Sam and sulked silently. He wasn’t mad of course. Simply _disappointed_ he had to pass up the opportunity of meeting the Avengers. By the time he had heavenly smelling food in front of him he was nearly over it.

Once Sam was finished and waiting for Dean to eat up his last sausages more people walked through the door.

Sam noticed too, he was a hunter, of course he did, but Dean _saw_. He was facing the entrance from what was probably the most convenient position. He was staring right into Thor’s face, watching as he pushed open the door and strolled in with Captain America, Black Widow and the Falcon.

“Don’t look now, but guess who came in?” Dean asked, averting his eyes and purposefully not ogling them while they sat down two tables over.

Sam turned around and back. “Huh.”

“Dude!” Dean whisper shouted. Maria came over to take the Avengers’ order. When he was quiet he could hear them talking.

“Okay, so you were right. Avengers,” said Sam and Dean crossed his fingers they weren’t paying attention to them. “Not all of them though.”

“Yeah, yeah,” muttered Dean. Maria was filling their mugs with coffee, when she was done Dean called her over. “Uhm, could we have refills, please?”

“Oh, of course, dear,” she said and filled his mugs. Sam held his hand up, signaling stop, when his mug was about halfway full, eying Dean with a confused expression.

Dean cleared his throat. “And, uh,” he cleared his throat _again_ and gave her a big grin. “I’m not quite full yet, could I have a stack of pancakes?”

Maria’s eyebrows flew up in surprise (Sam’s too, Dean was sure, but he didn’t look) “No problem,” she said, putting on an amused smile and shaking her head fondly, walking back to the kitchen.

“Seriously, Dean?” Sam of course saw right through him. No, Dean wasn’t still hungry, but they would sit here and _listen_ because this was a once in a lifetime opportunity and he would not pass that off.

“Yes, and now shut your trap and look busy.”

Sam rolled his eyes but did. He took out his phone, but Dean knew right away he was listening too.

“- your crazy brother again.” Black Widow was speaking.

“No,” answered Thor, not bothering to keep to the moderate volume his teammates were using. “I assure you, Loki has nothing to do with this.”

“I think she has a point,” said Captain America. “It’s quite similar.”

“Listen, I don’t know about you guys but this is starting to freak me out,” said Falcon.

Dean was fidgeting in his seat. “They _are_ undercover on a mission!” he whispered to Sam. “This is so cool!” 

Sam didn’t answer.

“We should focus less on why he is that way and more on how to finally catch him,” said Captain America. Dean was sitting in a room with Captain America.

“But how can we stop him when we don’t even know what’ going on with him?” asked Falcon.

Captain America sighed. “I don’t know. But we need to stop these killings.”

“Ross is going to kill us, we’re taking way too long as it is,” said Black Widow. “Besides-” she stopped. “Thanks.”

Dean looked up to see Maria setting a plate in front of her and Thor then going back to get the others’ plates.

“So they’re here for the killer,” Sam said, taking a sip from his coffee.

Dean nodded distractedly, Maria brought the other two plates and then came over to Sam and Dean to deliver the pancakes.

“Here you go,” she said. “Enjoy.” 

“Thanks!” Dean feigned enthusiasm. He was so not hungry anymore. Eating the pancakes slowly wouldn’t be a problem.

When she was gone the conversation resumed, albeit quieter this time, apparently they realized they could be overheard. Dean stared at his pancakes and cut into them, trying to look as un-nosy as possible.

“This is _not_ Clint,” Black Widow continued. “It’s like there isn’t a single shred of his personality left in him. What if he’s somewhere else, and this just a copy of his body running around?”

There was a short silence. Then Falcon spoke. “Well, normally I’d say that’s stupid, but i’m eating breakfast with a literal god, so who knows what could be possible? I’d certainly wouldn’t rule out magic.”

“Wasn’t that already what we were going with?” interjected Captain America. “He has black eyes and flung us against the wall with a single hand movement” - Dean and Sam’s heads flew up like synchronized and they shared a look - “I thought we were already going with ‘some kind of magic is involved’?”

“I admit, it does remind me of my brother’s bewitchment with the cepter.”

“Right?” said Black Widow. “But how do we _stop_ something like this? We’ve tried everything, but he doesn’t even let us get close anymore. At this point he’s making fun of us rather than fighting.”

“The last fight was indeed humiliating,” agreed Thor.

“He’s a demon,” whispered Sam and put away his phone. He had been staring at a black screen for the past minute or two.

“I know,” said Dean, his heart was beating excitedly in his chest, pancake piece on his fork forgotten. “What do we do?” Sam sighed and shrugged. “I think we need to help them.”

“Wouldn’t that be awesome? Helping the Avengers?”

“We’ve saved the world more times than them. And who says they even want our help?”

Dean was fidgeting in his seat.

“Go on, offer you _services_ , Dean,” Sam said and Dean didn’t even mind the mockery in his voice.

-

“Hey, uh.” Great start. “Sorry, but I couldn’t help but overhear you talking-”

“Yeah, sorry, but not now,” interrupted Black Widow.

Dean stocked and brought a hand up to his neck before pressing on. “No, I’m not, I mean. I know what’s happening to Hawkeye-- Clint. Me and my brother,” he gestured behind him, “we’ve dealt with a lot of demons before-”

“Demons?” He was interrupted again, by no other than Captain America.

“Yeah, black eyes, telekinesis, maybe a sulfur smell at times?”

The Avengers exchanged a look. Black Widow squinted her eyes at him. “Go on…”

Dean stood a bit straighter, now that they were actively listening. “We are monster hunters, have been for practically all our lives, and this wouldn’t be the first time we’ve dealt with a demon on a killing spree.”

There was a tense moment of silence.

“If you want our help, that is.”

“So what you’re saying is,” said Falcon. “That this isn’t actually Clint and a demon that just looks like Clint is what? Crawled out of hell and for some reason is in the mood of screwing with us?”

Thor nodded thoughtfully. “And you know how to stop him?”

Dean’s gaze flicked between Thor and Falcon, unsure what question to answer first. “He- kind of? It _is_ Clint, the demon is just possessing him. Like a puppet, you know? And yes, we know how to stop him. We,” He thought of the demon killing knife Sam had on him and the multiple angel blades they had in the trunk. He cleared his throat. “We’d need do an exorcism to send the demon back to hell, Hawkeye will be fine.”

“What’s your name?” asked Captain America after another moment of silence.

“Dean Winchester.”

“Alright, Dean, how about we talk about this some more when we’ve had breakfast? It looks like you’re not quite done yet either.”

Dean grinned. “Yeah, sure.”

-

Dean was barely able to finish his pancakes (he pushed Sam until he ate one too), and he was quite frankly thinking he was gonna be sick when he was done.

They met up with the team in one of their motel rooms, a nearly identical copy of Sam and Dean’s room. Flowery wallpaper, stains on the wall and two queens with equally flowery bed sheets.

“So, how exactly are we doing this?” asked Falcon and straddled one of the chairs at the table by the window, exactly the way Sam liked to sit sometimes, with the back of the chair at the front between his legs.

“Well, the most important thing is finding Hawkeye. The rest is just restricting him long enough to get the demon out of him,” said Dean and stood awkwardly in the middle of the room.

“Please,” said Captain America. “If we’re gonna work together you can call us by our real names. I’m Steve, those are Natasha and Sam.” He pointed at them. Natasha raised one corner of a her mouth in a belated greeting and leant against the table.

Dean gave a nod, he already knew that. Then a small jolt of shame ran through him. “Oh! This is Sam too, I mean, his name is Sam.” He waved a hand at his brother who was standing behind him, leaning against the wall and smirking.

“Nice to meet you all,” he said. And Dean wished he could say for certain Sam was as excited as him.

“It won’t be a problem to locate him,” said Thor. “He is very blatant in his doings.”

Natasha nodded. “It’s like he’s showing of, trying to get as much attention as possible.”

“We need to catch him soon,” added Steve, making a face. “Rumors are already spreading and we can’t have this get to the public.”

“We’re practically getting kicked in the butt to fix this already,” said Sam.

“He does talk to you, right? You mentioned that,” said Sam- his brother Sam this time.

“Yes,” answered Steve. “Whenever he kills. If we’re there before the police is he, well, like we said, makes fun of us, doesn’t even let us get close enough to attempt to catch him. We’re pretty sure he knows exactly what this is leading to.”

“He’s killing, then he’s going to let the world know without a doubt who that serial killer is. It’s a plot to get everyone to hate us,” said Natasha. “Not like it isn’t already going in that direction, after Sokovia. I’m sure you know what happened.”

Dean was a little taken aback by all that information. He turned to Sam and saw the wheels already turning. “Do you think this is Crowley’s doing?” he asked, not bothering to explain to the others.

Sam shook his head. “Nah, probably just a stray demon thinking he’s being funny. What worries me though is that we won’t be able to set a trap.”

Yes, no way of knowing where he’ll kill next. Dean turned back to the team, they all were watching expectedly. He clapped his hands together. “So, who’s opposed to getting guns involved?”

“No way,” said Natasha right away.

“I think you misunderstood,” said Thor, taking a step towards him, raising one hand like he was approaching a wild dog. “We do not want to injure our friend. And I thought at first you were suggesting removing the demon from him?”

“No, oh. No,” Dean tracked back, cringing at his question from before. “I didn’t mean it like that. But we can’t restrain him if we can’t get to him, and one shot - to the shoulder, just a flesh wound - would be enough to hold him back.”

“We have special bullets,” explained Sam and Dean shot him a silent thanks. “With a pentagram carved in them. It will stop him from using most of his demon powers. He can’t teleport away, for example.”

Everyone in the room seemed to sit or stand up a little straighter.

“And this will work?” asked Steve sceptically.

“This demon schtick is so weird,” muttered Sam. The Falcon, Dean added in his mind. “What he does is… magic. Uh, I understand it exists in some ways, but this is getting crazy.”

“Magic is like science, Sam,” said Thor. “It’s easier to understand if you grow up with it.”

“Gee, thanks. Said the god in the room.”

Usually they were killing gods and magic folk, Dean was reminded, albeit a bit embarrassed by that. Maybe they shouldn’t mention that. Dean flicked his gaze to his brother, who was grinning shyly. He was sure Sam was thinking the same.

“I have to agree,” said Natasha, sitting down at the end of one of the beds. “Demons are not our usual… opponents. It’s very mythical.”

“But my people are myths for the humans, as well, aren’t they?” Thor furrowed his brows.

“This is different, you’re an alien, technically,” Natasha shrugged.

“Other gods exist too,” interjected Dean. “Greek, Egyptian, Pagan… The Christian God is here too, sometimes.”

Steve’s eyebrows flew up. “Really?”

“Yeah, his name is Chuck, we met him a few times,” Dean grinned timidly.

“I’m not quite sure I believe you…” said Sam, scrunching up his face. “But I don’t have a good reason not to, other than ‘this doesn’t even make sense’.”

“Let’s not tell you about all the other monsters that roam the world then,” his Sam laughed humorously.

“Yeah, I don’t want to know,” Falcon-Sam agreed.

“Let’s get back to the matter at hand,” said Steve. “Say we agree to shoot Clint with this bullet. The demon will leave him then?”

“No,” said Dean. “But we can throw him into our trunk and bring him here. We prepare a devil’s trap, bound him to a chair and exorcise him.”

“How big is the chance that something goes wrong?”

Dean wasn’t sure how to answer that. There was always a chance for something to go wrong, that was part of the job. He shrugged. “If we don’t shoot him in the brain or the heart he’ll live.”

“I will shoot,” said Natasha. “I don’t trust you guys with that.”

“Fair enough.”

-

Sam and Dean went outside to grab the demon bullets (luckily they had a few prepared, just in case), handcuffs that will restrain a demon too, and rope and paint with a brush for the room.

“So, is this what you imagined?” asked Sam at the car.

“I dunno,” admitted Dean, “you were kind of right. They aren’t really more special than us.”

“Are you saying we are superheroes?” Sam grinned.

“No,” said Dean and slung the rope over his shoulder. He stocked, grinned back and said: “No, I’m a superhero and you’re a disney princess.”

Sam punched his arm but laughed. “Idiot. We _did_ save the world, however.”

“That we did, and now let’s save the Avengers.”

Dean felt a bit of pride thinking that. Because yes, that’s what they were doing here, saving the Avengers.

-

They planned what they would do right away. As soon as they hear about another reported death (thanks to the police radio the Avengers had), they would need to drive immediately and hope their location was closer to the crime scene than the nearest police station.

“I think Sam and me should keep our distance until you’ve got the bullet in him,” said Dean while Sam was painting the devil’s trap onto the floor, the Avengers watching with septic faces. “He might recognize us, and disappear before we’ve got the chance to do anything.”

Steve regarded him, eyes slightly pinched. “You’re saying you know this demon?”

“No, most likely not. But,” he scratched his neck, “uh, we’ve been doing this for a long time and our names got around.” He gave little smirk.

Sam snorted and looked up. “Practically every monster that hasn’t been living under a rock knows who we are, Dean. Don’t be modest.”

“That’s what you’re doing day in day out? Exorcising demons and monsters and drinking tea with gods?”

Dean frowned. “I don’t think we ever said anything about drinking-”

“What kind of monsters are we referring to? Other unearthly creatures?” asked Thor. “Fire Hounds, Lava Worms? I’ve fought against both before.” He showed his teeth in a bright grin.

“Uh, never heard of those,” admitted Dean. “We’ve fought and killed vampires, ghosts, werewolves, skinwalkers, djinns, shapeshifters, fish tacos or whatever they’re called, real zombies, angels - because those can be fuckers too - erm, what else is there, Sam? I can’t name everything off the top of my head.”

“Basically everything you’d think doesn’t exist.”

“Right. If it’s evil, we hunt it.”

And then everyone spoke at once.

“Angels? But are those not supposed to be good?” asked Thor. At the same time as Steve said “What about the Loch Ness Monster?”

“So you’re a fancy version of the ghost hunters,” said Natasha.

“I understand that reference,” said Steve and looked proud of himself.

“Wait a second, can we rewind to the fish tacos? Did you say fish tacos?” Falcon-Sam called out above the chaos.

“Pishtacos,” Sam corrected. “And we only ever met two and had to kill just one of them.”

“So, yeah,” Dean said when everyone calmed down. “We know our monsters. And demons are definitely on our ‘frequent’ list.”

The police radio gave feedback and everybody turned their head. Another reported murder, a location and an added on “We’re sending everybody.”

“Shit we didn’t get to discuss the plan,” said Dean.

“We’ll do it on the way, we need to be quick now.”

“Wait, we don’t all fit into the car,” said Falcon-Sam, already on the door with the car keys in hand.

“I have my own car, and if that Mercedes CL500 out there is yours, then we’ll need my car either way, because there’s no way a body will fit in your trunk.”

“And we have a devil’s trap drawn inside the trunk,” said Sam. “I’m gonna stay here, get this trap done, prepare a few other things.”

“Alright,” agreed Steve. “But we need to go _now_.”

Everyone made their way to the cars, Natasha and Thor hurrying to the backseat (the car was a two-doorer, not exactly the best choice for this kind of mission), and Dean gave himself a second to be amused at seeing them struggle to get into the back, before sliding into the front seat of the Impala.

-

They were fast. They ignored at least three red lights on their way and Dean was sure the speed limit was way lower than what they were pushing. It was like a police chase, except they weren’t actually being chased by the police, but they had to be first place regardless.

One block from the given location the Avengers slowed down and parked the car. They were pretty much in the centre of the town, office buildings and multiple floor apartments were all around them, but the neighbourhood seemed eerily quiet. Like everyone was hiding out in their homes. Dean kept his distance and parked a few cars behind them as they climbed out of their car.

“What the fuck are they doing?” he mumbled, watching them run towards a building, not even in the same direction as the crime scene. Looking up, he just so managed to catch a glimpse of a head disappearing behind the half wall bordering the roof.

He cursed and flung the car door open, following the Avengers. They had a head start but Dean ran the stairs up as fast as he could.

He crashed through the door leading to the roof and felt immediately relieved at discovering that Clint was still there. Natasha was pointing the gun at him. The rest of the team free to move, but not acting, probably afraid they would be thrown from the roof with a single hand motion by the demon.

“Oh you’re gonna shoot me now?” the demon in Clint mocked. “Have enough of talking me into stopping? I’m hurt, I thought we were friends.”

“You’re not Clint,” Natasha pressed through clenched teeth.

 _Just shoot, god damn it,_ flashed through Dean’s thoughts in the same moment Clint hurled the gun out of her hands. The gun landed next to Steve and he threw himself to the floor right away. “Damn right, I’m not.”

From the corner of his eyes Dean saw as Thor raised his hammer. “Don’t!” called Dean, afraid the demon would disappear.

Clint snapped his head around, noticing Dean for the first time. “Winchester!”

Surprise showed in his face, and Dean stormed towards him, hoping to use this to his advantage. On his right Sam got to the gun and Dean dropped to the floor. A shot, and a bullet flew over his head and Clint fell to the ground next to him, clutching his shoulder, fury in his face.

“You bastard!” he spat at Dean. “Why do you Winchesters have to make everything about yourself? Why can’t you keep your damn noses -”

“Shut up,” said Dean and got to his feet. The others were carefully approaching them. Dean got out the cuffs from his pocket. Steve removed the bow that was strapped to his back before Dean handcuffed his hands behind his back. The demon wasn’t struggling, apparently feeling the effect of the bullet.

“Fuck you,” he said as they led him down the stairs and threw him into the Impala’s trunk.

Dean was surprised to find Sam (Falcon-Sam, Sam was still back at the motel) sliding into the passenger seat next to Dean.

“It’s Nat’s turn to drive, and I don’t fancy sitting in the back,” he grinned at him. “And you have a damn sweet ride.”

Dean grinned back.

-

“Well, if this isn’t the second Winchester,” the demon said as they were leading him into the motel room. Sam was awaiting them sitting backwards on a chair in the middle of the devil’s trap. “The Legendary Winchesters. I’ve heard so much about you two.”

Sam stood up and turned the chair around. “I’ve kept the seat warm for you.”

His face was drawn into a grimace but he let himself be tied onto the chair. It had no arms, so they kept Clint’s hand behind his back.

“No more murders for you,” muttered Dean as he did the last knots that where tying Clint’s legs to the chair. “You’re going back to hell.”

“We’ll see about that,” Clint said and smiled down at him. Dean rose to his feet and stared him down.

Clint then turned to the watching Avengers, who were still in a ready to defend, attack, and guard the door stance, as if Clint could leap up at any moment. “The damage is already done.”

“No,” said Steve with a hard voice. “You hesitated too long with showing your face. And we’re making sure to keep this under wraps.”

“Hm, maybe. But the rumors are already spreading, aren’t they? Do you think people have noticed the Avengers running around their little town, ‘cause let me tell you, you guys aren’t very unnoticeable people.”

“Don't worry about that,” said his brother Sam. “All you've got to worry about now is us.”

“No one asked you to get involved!” snapped the demon at him.

“Well, it’s our job to get involved.”

Clint glared. “Get on with it then.” He flashed his black eyes.

“Gladly,” said Sam and started chanting the exorcism.

“Is that latin?” whispered Steve to Dean. Clint writhed in agony and screamed in that low pitched demon voice.

“Yeah.”

“So you are literally exorcising him,” said Natasha. “I thought this was going to being less… spiritual.”

Dean shrugged.

“And it’s gonna work?” asked Sam, looking sceptic. The other three adapted more of a worried expression.

Clint stopped screaming and looked directly at him. “No.”

Dean’s eyes flew to Sam, as Clint started chanting his own incantation and the walls began to shake

“Shit, Sam?” 

“Behind you!” 

Dean turned around and found a bucket on the table, filled with water. Holy water. He took it and flung the content of it on Clint. He screamed in earnest this time, the steam flying around him. 

“What the hell?” asked someone behind him.

“Don’t worry, it’s not hurting Clint, only the demon inside him,” he said over his shoulder. Sam gave him a punch and Clint’s body sacked into unconsciousness. “But this is.”

Sam threw him a worried glance.

“I wonder if…” Dean said and checked Clint’s arms. A sigil was burned onto the skin, not unlike the one Meg had used to trap herself in Sam, all those years ago.

“What’s going on?” asked Natasha.

“A binding link,” said Dean.

“And what exactly does that mean?” “The demon is locked inside Clint’s body,” said Sam. “Shit,” he turned to Dean. “We need something to break it.”

“Like…?” prompted Natasha.

“A hot iron rod?” Dean suggested, trying for a placating smile. “Something to scorch through the sigil, break up a line.”

Thor stepped forward, wielding his hammer. “Do you believe a lightning burn would function as such?”

“Sure,” Dean shrugged. “We can try. Go ahead, god of thunder.” Dean freed Clint's arm and stepped aside.

Thor raised Mjolnir and summoned a small amount of lightning, directing it to the sigil. Raw power struck precisely onto it, but the burn spread a good few inches in every direction until Thor moved away.

Clint twitched and jerked, threw his head back and the demon exited through his mouth in a huge black smoke cloud.

The Avengers watched in fascination and Sam and Dean stood there too, watching dumbfoundedly the act of saving a “meatsuit” by sending the demon back to hell. Clint got to live. And Dean thought of all those demons they had killed in the last years, hell, decade. Of all those demons that were possessing innocent people who did not deserve to die, even when taking a demon with them. He thought of the real Meg Masters.

Clint awoke with a groan, and Thor hurried to untie him completely.

With an uttered “Oh _thank_ god,” Steve joined him with Natasha and Sam. Dean watched as Natasha tried to help Clint up, until he hissed in pain and she ushered him back down. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been shot,” Clint groaned. He gripped his arm and looked around. “Did I miss anything? What the hell happened?”

Steve laid a hand carefully on his uninjured shoulder. “We’ll patch you back up and tell you everything, don’t worry.” He smiled in relief at the brothers. “The Legendary Winchesters, huh?”

“The Legendary Winchesters… who?” Clint frowned in confusion at Sam and Dean.

-

“Thank you both,” said Steve and shook first Sam’s hand, then Dean’s. “In all earnesty, I don’t think we could have done that without you.”

Sam grinned, albeit a little painfully. “I’m sure you would have found a way.”

“Maybe.” Steve glanced back at their car, Dean followed his gaze and saw Sam and Natasha helping Clint into the car. His shoulder was wrapped and the bullet gone. “But this is something we will gladly leave up to you.”

“Call us if you ever come across other demons or monsters,” Dean said and winked at him. “We also bust ghosts.”

Steve smiled. “Yes, I think we’ll keep that in mind. Take care of yourself, guys.”

“You too, Captain America.” Okay, maybe he was a bit smug after all.


End file.
